


Home

by Ryu_Reikai_Akuma



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Reclaimed, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Background Relationships, King Thorin, M/M, Politics, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship, Uncle/Nephew Incest, mostly Thorin's musings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 01:13:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15546348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma/pseuds/Ryu_Reikai_Akuma
Summary: After so long a wait, Thorin was finally home.





	Home

**Author's Note:**

> I actually forgot I wrote this, so here it is before I forget about it again! Edited as best as I can. My company forgets again that I'm not their only employee, so I'm dealing with insane overtime and have little time for writing/editing.
> 
> Radical Face’s [Welcome Home](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P8a4iiOnzsc) always gives me a lot of Thorin’s feels. Give it a listen or at least read the [lyrics](https://genius.com/Radical-face-welcome-home-lyrics) and weep with me.

Erebor hadn’t changed.

No. That was untrue. Erebor _had_ changed. Dale was now but a ruin dotted by small lights of fires lighted by the surviving refugees of Laketown. What used to be endless green and tall trees was now a desolated land, brown and lifeless. Decades of abandonment left marks on the Lonely Mountains in the forms of collapsing walls, musty stones, and piles and piles of dust. What was once a deep mine filled with wealth and lives was now dark and empty. Almost forgotten in distant corners of the mountain kingdom were the bodies of those who had fallen in their attempt to defend Erebor from the dragon.

But, it was still home! It was still Erebor although it wasn’t at all what Thorin remembered it to be. He hadn’t lied when he said he knew the stones when he first set foot into the secret passage. Something within him that was broken and had been quiet since he had been forced away from Erebor had sprung back to life. Now, standing in the balcony of the king’s ( _king_!) bedchamber, he took a deep breath and recognized the chilly fresh air filling his lungs. His senses perceived familiarities even in the destroyed and the missing. Even if he was blind and deaf, he would recognize the place where he belonged.

The place that belonged to him once more! Decades of suffering and patience and longing hadn’t gone to waste. No, Thorin refused to think they had gone to waste. The time had allowed him to gain the strength and alliances he needed and now he had done what his grandfather and father had failed to achieve. He had returned to Erebor, to his birthright. He had given back their people their true home. Soon dwarfs would come from all across Middle Earth to join him and together they would rebuild the kingdom, _then_ they would surpass its former glory.

So much work to do! Many parts of Erebor needed repair and must be prepared for the returning dwarfs. Food supplies and other provisions should be brought in for men and dwarfs who stayed in Erebor and Dale. The injured needed medical attention. Alliances needed to be restored and reinforced after his previous lapse of madness. Defense must be examined and strengthened as they were still recovering from a battle and enemies were never too far away. Thorin had never been taught how to rebuild a kingdom and had only ever learnt how to prosper it, but he wasn’t daunted. The lessons he had learnt as a prince in Erebor and the experience he had gained as an exiled king in Ered Luin would aid him. It would not be easy. It might take a long time. But, he was determined to make it happen and the exhilaration kept him awake tonight, mere hours after his life was nearly lost to orcs.

Such was the effect of realizing a dream that had long haunted him. How many nights had he spent sleepless, looking longingly to the east? How many hours had he spent trapped in a dream of fire, of green, of gold, of home? How many days had he plotted and hoped for his return? Now, it had come true. He was home. And everything that had eluded him, that had cost the lives of his loved ones, suddenly seemed possible. No task was too difficult. No wait was too long. Smaug had been killed. The battle was won. The dwarves had returned to Erebor. Whatever challenge might arise, he was ready to take them on. Thorin looked up to the night sky and smiled at the pale moon.

“Why are you still awake?” Kili joined him and frowned at him in worry. “You’re supposed to be recuperating. Oin wouldn’t be happy to know you’re still awake so late at night.”

Thorin had in fact forgotten all about his wounds. Once the battle ended, he was overcome with pride and disbelief. Even as he bled and Oin tended to him frantically, all he could think of was how he was now truly the King under the Mountain, no longer a kingdom-less king, no longer a wandering dwarf. He had a home once more. One that was partially ruined, granted, but it was still his kingdom home. His mind was filled with nostalgia when it was not filled with future plans. The pain and soreness were but distant discomforts to him. He first reentered Erebor days ago, but it seemed to him that his real return only happened today. Standing here in the open, in the balcony of what used to be his grandfather’s bedchamber, Thorin felt refreshed, as if he had only left Ered Luin yesterday, as if he hadn’t encountered any obstacle on his way to Erebor, as if there hadn’t been a battle. There was energy thrumming in his veins, echoing the life that slowly restarted in the heart of the Lonely Mountain. The forge had been lit, the fire burning steadily, pumping light and heat into every corner of the mountain, awakening Erebor for a new era, for the return of the dwarfs.

“I can’t sleep,” Thorin admitted, smiling.

Kili raised his eyebrow, the corners of his lips quirking knowingly. “All these will still be here when you wake, you know?”

Indeed. No longer would everything disappear with the rising of the sun. This wasn’t a cruel visage of a dream, but a reality. After decades of yearning, this contentment was something he had to get accustomed to and the thought made him smile wider. “How is everyone doing?” he asked when Kili chuckled, reading him correctly.

“The Iron Hills dwarves and the elves are staying in any safe room they can find, while the injured are tended by Oin, Gandalf, and some elves. The Elvenking also has dispatched a message to his forest to send healers here. They should arrive tomorrow.” Kili looked at Dale in the distance wistfully. “We’ve offered shelter to the people of Laketown, but they choose to stay in their ancestor’s homes.”

“I cannot blame them,” Thorin said in understanding, for he, too, found himself with strengthened attachment to Erebor. Why, he hardly could keep from touching the familiar stones around him. “What of Dain, the Bard and the Elvenking? They should be given the best accommodations we can provide.”

“I’ve seen to that,” Kili announced, proud of his initiative. “I’ve shown Dain and the Elvenking chambers in the royal apartments. The Bard insists on staying with his people, however.”

“A fine leader, he is.” The Bard had been right to doubt him–Thorin was really afflicted by the same greed that had brought Smaug to Erebor. Had Thorin heeded to him or at least kept his words in mind, many of the terrible events that followed their arrival at Laketown wouldn’t have happened. As happy as Thorin was for his success in reclaiming Erebor, he still felt guilty for causing Smaug to attack Laketown and choosing war over peace, causing the death of so many. How the Bard found it within him to forgive and respect, he didn’t know.

“He asked after you, the Bard,” Kili said, breaking Thorin’s reverie. “He wishes to discuss with you the restoration of Dale and Erebor as soon as you’ve recovered. I think he and the Elvenking want to offer their help.”

“I see,” Thorin said, a little surprised. He had expected the offer from the Bard, but not from the Elvenking. There was a long history of animosity between their races, one that Thorin hadn’t expected to erase in just one day, especially so soon after a violent battle. But, perhaps this was the first day of their attempt for reconciliation, the first step into an era of peace. If so, Thorin would not reject him. “I should like to offer the same assistance to them. I hope to recover soon, so I can discuss it with them.”

“Well, you won’t recover quickly without rest!” Kili admonished him brazenly. “Don’t be like a child, unable to sleep for excitement!”

Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, the corner of his lips lifting in amusement. The easy way with which Kili addressed him in private never failed to charm him. “You are injured, too, so why aren’t you resting?” he retorted.

Kili shrugged and gingerly touched the bandage wrapped around his torso. The sight of him bloodied had made Thorin ill with fear of again losing someone dear to him to the orcs. He had shaken at Kili’s bedside, holding his breath as wounds were cleaned and carefully but swiftly cut. His relief when Gandalf managed to stem the bleeding had been stark and dizzying. The rush of air into his lungs rivaled the lightheadedness he felt when he walked into Erebor as a victorious king. Now Kili stood before him, scarred and injured, a little less innocent than when he departed Ered Luin, a bit hardened by obstacles, but he was smiling, happy, and alive. There’s little more Thorin could ask for.

“I’m about to, but I can’t find a place. The company has occupied most of this section. Fili has your old bedchamber, I hope you don’t mind. He’s sworn not to look through your things!”

Thorin chuckled, remembering the boyhood things he had left behind. He had no use for them now, but he would like to see them for memory’s sake. While his memory of the day Smaug attacked remained vivid, other moments had blurred in his mind. No longer he remembered the youth that he had been, one that had been raised on seemingly endless privileges. The dwarf he was today was shaped by hardships and scars that lad hadn’t known. He wondered, if he went to his room, would he recognize who he used to be?

“I think I’ll stay with Fili,” Kili decided. “There’s enough room there for two.”

Perhaps it was where he was, back in Erebor, or perhaps it was the thrill of victory over his inherited greed and a deadly battle, but Thorin found the trepidation which usually restrained his words and actions lightened. His apprehension was gone. Any consequence seemed insignificant—he had reclaimed his mountain kingdom and defeated an army of orcs! What obstacle was impossible for him to take on? Boldly, he proposed, “I believe the royal consort’s chamber is unoccupied.”

Kili looked at him in surprise. For a moment, Thorin thought he would immediately agree–Kili was usually the one with more difficulty denying himself–but then Kili laughed merrily. “Is this really the best time to let people know?”

“Perhaps not,” Thorin conceded without disappointment. The refusal confirmed the growth of Kili’s character. Only a few months ago, he would agree with Thorin’s idea, always eager to steal any time he could to be with him. Now, however, he seemed to think a little further ahead beyond his immediate pleasures. Thorin couldn’t be more proud of and in love with him. “There are many other matters to address first.”

“There are. And it won’t be easy to tell people. I imagine they won’t be very happy to know they have been denied the opportunity to celebrate their king’s wedding proper!”

They smiled affectionately to each other, remembering the very private ceremony held before they left for Erebor. There had been no witness when they exchanged vows of love and devotion, and there was no celebration that followed it. While Kili was accustomed to secrecy, having kept his relationship with Thorin hidden for several years before they wedded, not telling anyone–Fili and Dis included–regarding their marriage was exceptionally difficult for him. It hadn’t been helped by the number of times they almost lost each other during the quest. It had been nothing less than torture to see each other suffering, but unable to offer a word of comfort, let alone affection. Only touches in the dark had been allowed, along with heaved breaths that carried so many unspoken words. Thorin vowed that as soon as he was able, he would let the world know that it was to Kili that his heart belonged.

“First, we must restore Erebor and reestablish our alliances. With their help, I’m confident that we will turn the Lonely Mountain and Dale into good homes for our returning people in not very long–perhaps a couple of years. I hope the desolated land can be fixed, though I know very little of how to cultivate it. I must ask the elves whether they know of any way to bring life back there–we need to secure our food supply if there is to be thousands living here again. I don’t think they will come all at once, but we still must be prepared. When they arrive, Erebor must be ready to sustain their lives or at least provide shelter from nature and enemies alike. I hope Dain doesn’t mind lending us some of his soldiers while we rebuild our defenses, which will be difficult because we don’t yet have enough people to build an army, but…”

“There are so many things to do! We won’t announce our marriage in a decade at least at this rate!” Kili interrupted him with a laugh.

Thorin huffed, not denying that he had been carried away by exciting designs. “And after everything is set, we will have a huge banquet with songs, dances and wine.”

“And meat, I hope!”

“And meat,” Thorin agreed, chuckling. He took a deep breath and looked at the night view of his kingdom. Only days prior, the darkness and the unknown had worried him. Now, however, he only saw potentials. There was nothing there, but soon there would be. Soon, he would again see the view he had thousands of times dreamt and thoughts of. Soon, the greatest dream of the dwarf race would come true. “I’ll make Erebor a home for us as soon as I can,” he promised.

Kili looked at him with a fond grin. “You will enjoy minute of it, won’t you? I can tell. You are happier today than I’ve ever seen you in my life.”

“I am happy,” Thorin confirmed. A reverent smile spread of his lips as he realized that despite the numerous tasks he had set for himself, he didn’t feel any burden bearing down on his shoulders. When he breathed, he could breathe easily, without fear, guilt and longing restricting his lungs. When he looked around him, he saw only hope and none of the doubts that had plagued him for so long. If he had managed to reclaim Erebor, he _would_ be able to restore its half-forgotten magnificence. “I am happy,” he repeated quietly to himself.

Kili didn’t say anything, but linked his fingers with Thorin’s. Together they watched the night sky and the quiet land. Erebor wasn’t quite what Thorin remembered of it, but it was still Erebor. It was still a place where he belonged. Even if it wouldn’t exactly be similar to Thorin’s memory once it was restored, it would still be Erebor. It would always be home for him and he would make it home again for those who had been forced to leave it and those who had only ever heard of its glory. It would be a home for his friends and family and allies and beloved husband and there they would all prosper, there they would all thrive, there they would all be safe from harm, and never would it be taken from them again. Everything that had gone terribly wrong and been taken from them had finally fallen into its rightful place. Thorin squeezed Kili’s hand as joy and relief flooded into him, filling his soul with perfect contentment he had almost forgotten. He was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Some days, I like Thorin, but other days, I see too much of me in him to like him. I guess this fic was written on one of those good days.
> 
> Feel free to say hi to me on [my tumblr](http://demonessryu.tumblr.com/).


End file.
